ICE CREAM ( GLACE ) IN PARIS

                                              

ICE CREAM ( GLACE )   IN PARIS

I am informed that frozen desserts arrived in France in 1553 when Catherine de  Medici brought Italian techniques after marrying Henry II. But they went mainstream in 1660 when the Sicilian Francesco Procopio introduced a recipe blending milk, cream, butter and eggs at Cafe  Procope,  the first cafe in Paris. The product took off: François Procope opened an ice cream cafe  in 1651 and within 50 years another 250 cafes had opened in Paris. By 1692, Nicolas Audiger published a French ice cream recipe using sugar and orange blossom water, refined after 18 months in Italy. French aristocrats embraced it next, and classic French styles like "glace a la Chantilly" emerged in the 17th century and "fontainebleau" in the 18th.

During  Napoleon 's First Empire (1804-1814), ice cream was hugely popular in France .It was sometimes called “neige” and came in 80+ flavours at Paris restaurants : not just caramel, chocolate, vanilla, plum, peach, but also saffron, clove, and even savoury versions with fish or artichoke. “Sorbets” were liqueurs made from fresh cream with almonds, pistachios, tea, coffee, chocolate, vanilla, etc. Accordingly, icecream was a staple of elite French dining by his era. Cafe Procope had been serving ice cream since 1660.

Parisians have always loved ice cream like patisserie because in France it’s treated as the same craft. An artisan glaciertrains like a pastry chef, using seasonal fruit, real vanilla, and perfect technique instead of mass-produced base mix. It fits the same daily ritual as a morning croissant or afternoon lgoûter_: a small, beautiful pause meant to be savoured, not rushed. Add the French obsession with ingredients and presentation, and a scoop from Berthillon or Maison Alfred  or Bachir pistachios sprayed cone gets judged by the same standard as a mille-feuille. For Parisians, it was never just dessert. It’s flavour, balance, and care in a cone.

After about 20 days of clouds and rainy weather, Paris  has been hot since yesterday with temperature likely to touch 32 degrees Celsius today. Yesterday, we visited Jardin de Luxembourg and tasted the super delicious icecream at Maison Alfred at its outlet outside the entrance to the Luxembourg Gardens. Some time back, the pistachios sprayed icecream cone at Bachir was a real experience for us . We also tried icecream at some other places. In Paris , one gets delicious icecream at:

ICE CREAM AT BERTHILON

Berthillon is the Parisian ice cream institution. Started in 1954 on Île Saint-Louis, it’s still family-run and still sets the standard for glace artisanale in France. No artificial colours or flavourings, no mass production ,  just milk, cream, sugar, eggs, and whatever fruit is in season that week. That’s why flavours like wild strawberry disappear by September and chestnut only shows up in winter. Parisians line up down Rue Saint-Louis en l’Île because the texture is dense, rich, and pure, more like frozen pastry cream than airy soft-serve. You can get it at the original shop or from cafés around the city that display the “Agent Berthillon” sticker for  the source .

ICE CREAM  OF MAISON ALFRED

Maison Alfred catches your eye immediately with its sleek black and gold awning promising both “Glacier” and “Gaufre,” and the oversized ice cream cone sculptures flanking the storefront. The queue spilling onto the Parisian sidewalk tells you it’s popular, and inside, strings of lights and hanging pastel cone decorations make the space feel playful without trying too hard. With self-order kiosks on either side and trilingual “Commander Ici / Order Here” signs, it’s built for both locals and tourists craving ice cream or fresh waffles. Set in a classic Haussmann-style building with wrought-iron balconies above, the shop blends old-world Paris charm with a modern, Instagram-ready dessert counter. It’s the kind of place where the line is part of the experience, and the payoff is a scoop or gaufre you’ll eat while walking.

BACHIR  (BASHIR ) ICE CREAM  

Bachir( Bashir )  is a Lebanese ice cream shop that landed in Paris in 2019 and quickly became famous for its Achta glacée,  a stretchy, milky ice cream flavored with orange blossom and rose water. Started in Bikfaya, Lebanon in 1936 and still family-run, Bachir skips the scoop and instead serves achta as a roll that is heavily sprayed with crushed Sicilian l, then wrapped in soft Lebanese bread or brioche for a rich, floral, nutty ice cream sandwich you eat with your hands. The classic is achta with pistachio, but you’ll also find mango, strawberry, and chocolate versions. With shops in Le Marais at 58 Rue Rambuteau, Saint-Germain at 7 Rue de l’Odéon, and Opéra at 15 Rue du 4 Septembre, there’s usually a line, but at €6-€8 a roll it’s worth it for something totally different from French glace or Italian gelato. On all days of a week, tourists are seen crowding this shop .

Other places to relish icecream in Paris are :Folderol in the 11th arrondissement , Une Glace à Paris, and Pozzetto brings proper Italian gelato with outstanding pistachio and fruit sorbets. Old-school charm lives on at Raimo, Paris’s oldest ice cream maker since 1947 with over 90 flavours, and La Glacerie in the 15th focuses on high-butterfat, in-house artisan glace. One can also spot "Amorino" shaping gelato into flowers, and even Pierre Hermé turns out superb, intense sorbets alongside his macarons. Most shops close over winter.Try these once . These icecreams are worth the  price. Something different and somthing very  tasty.

( Avtar Mota)

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.

Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.

A VISIT TO LUXEMBOURG GARDENS ,PARIS

                                              

A VISIT  TO THE LUXEMBOURG GARDENS ,PARIS'S GREEN HEART 

Tucked between the Latin Quarter and Saint-Germain-des-Pres, the Jardin du Luxembourg ( Luxembourg  Garden  ) is one of Paris’s most beloved public spaces. At just under 23 hectares, it manages to feel both grand and intimate ,  a meticulously kept formal garden where Parisians read, play, fall in love, and argue about politics, just as they have done for 400 years.

THE ROYAL ORIGIN 

The gardens were born from grief and ambition. In 1611, Marie de Medici, widow of Henri IV and mother of Louis XIII, grew homesick for the Pitti Palace gardens of her native Florence. She bought the Hotel du Luxembourg and commissioned a palace and park to match. Architect Salomon de Brosse designed the Luxembourg Palace in Florentine style, while landscape designer Tommaso Francini laid out 8 hectares of formal gardens with terraces, fountains, and grottoes.

After the French Revolution, the palace became the seat of the French Senate, which still meets there today. Napoleon opened the gardens to the public in the early 19th century, and Baron Haussmann later enlarged them to their current size during his renovation of Paris . So what began as a queen’s private retreat became a democratic space , quite fitting for a garden now flanked by the Senate and the Sorbonne University .

THE LAYOUT :FRENCH  FORMALITY MEETS  ENGLISH EASE 

The Gardens are a masterclass in landscape design, blending two traditions.  The central axis is pure 17th-century French formality. From the palace’s south façade, a vast terrace overlooks the Grand Bassin ,  an octagonal pond where children have sailed wooden toy boats since the 1880s. They continue to do so . Lucien Lefevre’s boat rental kiosk still operates, and for €8 you can captain your own tiny schooner with a stick and use it for 30 minutes. The parterres around it explode with colour: 30,000 plants are replanted twice yearly. Tulips and pansies in spring give way to begonias, salvias, and dahlias for summer.

Radiating from the pond are straight, gravelled allees lined with chestnut trees, trimmed to geometric perfection. This is Andre Le Notre’s influence , the designer of Versailles Gardens also reworked parts of the Luxembourg in the 1660s. Stand at the pond and look north to the palace, south to the Observatory Avenue: the whole garden reveals itself in ordered perspective.

But wander east or west and the mood softens. The English-style sections added in the 19th century offer winding paths, irregular lawns, and groves of mature trees. Here you’ll find students from the Sorbonne University with laptops on benches, and pensioners playing chess near the Davioud bandstand. The contrast is deliberate : structure for ceremony, wilderness for reverie.

SCULPTURE AND MEMORY 

If the Tuileries is Paris’s outdoor Louvre, the Luxembourg is its portrait gallery. Over 106 statues dot the grounds, turning a stroll into a lesson in French history. The most famous is the Medici Fountain, built c.1630. Tucked into a shady corner, its long pool reflects a grotto of nymphs and a weary Polyphemus watching Acis and Galatea embrace. It’s the most romantic spot in Paris after dark, when the fountain is lit.

Encircling the main terrace are 20 marble queens and illustrious women of France , from Saint Genevieve to Josephine de Beauharnais. Commissioned by Louis-Philippe in 1843, the “Reines de France et Femmes Illustres” series was radical: a public monument to women’s power.

Elsewhere, you’ll trip over Delacroix, Baudelaire, Verlaine, and Sainte-Beuve , all memorialised in bronze. The garden was a haunt for writers. Victor Hugo had Marius and Cosette meet here in ,Les Misérables . Hemingway admitted in ,' A Moveable Feast' that he went there when he was hungry and broke: “I could walk there and look at the pictures in the Luxembourg Museum and go to the gardens.” Gertrude Stein took Alice B. Toklas there to walk their dog. Sartre and de Beauvoir argued on its benches.

A GARDEN FOR THE PEOPLE 

What makes the Luxembourg special isn’t just design ,  it’s use. This is not a museum piece. It’s where Parisians live. The Senate owns the garden and funds its upkeep.  The lawns are pristine, but access is famously Parisian. Most grass is off-limits, except for designated lawns that open March-October. On the first sunny day, students colonise every blade, picnicking between the metal chairs. The chairs themselves are iconic :  forest-green, movable, and free. Alain Delon called them “the most democratic seats in France” because minister and student sit in identical ones.

For children, it’s paradise. Beyond the sailboats, there’s the vintage 1879 carousel, a marionette theatre running Guignol puppet shows since 1933, and a vast playground. Pony rides circle near the Rue de Fleurus entrance. The tennis courts, basketball hoops, and petanque pistes are constantly in use. On Wednesdays and weekends, the bandstand hosts free concerts. There is a stand for poney ride on payment. 

Close to Rue d'Assas , in the southwest corner of the gardens ,lies the old   beekeeping school . The school has taught apiculture here since 1856 . One  can buy Luxembourg honey at the orangery in autumn. The orchard grows 180 heritage apple varieties. Gardeners still cultivate the palace’s floral displays in 19th-century greenhouses. If you want to relax in  peace, head to the southwest corner: the fruit trees and rose garden are usually empty.

SEASONS IN THE LUXEMBOURG 

The garden wears each season differently. Spring arrives with the first chair stacked outdoors in March. Cherry trees near the Musee du Luxembourg cloud pink. The lawns open and students reappear like migratory birds. 

Summer is high season. The flowerbeds peak in July. The Senate hosts open-air photo exhibitions on the railings of Rue de Medicis ,Salgado, Sebastiao, and other greats have shown here, free to all. The fountains run, the tennis players sweat, and the shade under the chestnuts becomes precious.

Autumn is perhaps finest. The avenues turn gold. The light slants low across the Grand Bassin. The dahlias are at their most dramatic. Beekeepers harvest honey, and the garden empties of tourists, leaving it to locals.

Winter strips it bare, but the structure shines. The statues gain gravitas against bare branches. The Medici Fountain looks austere and beautiful. Crepe stands sell hot chestnuts, and the chairs are fewer but still occupied by readers in coats.

Entry to the garedens is free. Gates open at dawn and close at dusk , times vary by season. One needs to  check in advance . Main entrances to the gardens are at Place Edmond Rostand by the RER, or Boulevard Saint-Michel.  Ball games are only allowed in designated areas. And yes, you may move the green chairs ,  it’s encouraged. Drag two into the sun, face the palace, and do as the Parisians do.

The Musee du Luxembourg in the northeast corner hosts excellent temporary exhibitions, usually art or history. The Orangerie holds palms in winter and a cactus show in spring. 

WHY IT MATTERS 

Paris has grander gardens ,  Versailles overwhelms, Buttes-Chaumont surprises , but none is as deeply woven into daily life as the Luxembourg. It’s a working garden, not just a pretty one. It survived the Revolution, the Commune, and Haussmann’s boulevards. It educated generations of politicians in the Senate and poets on 1 benches. George Sand wrote, “what a beautiful thing it is to see a garden in the heart of a great city.” The Luxembourg is that: a pause, a breath, a civic living room. Marie de  Medici wanted a memory of Florence. What she gave Paris was something better , a place to be Parisian.

( Avtar Mota )

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.

Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.

FRENCH POLITENESS OR "LA POLITESSE"

                                        

FRENCH POLITENESS OR   LA POLITESSE

If you spend any time in Paris, you cannot escape "La Politesse" . It is everywhere, from the Metro to the market, from the bank to the boulangery ( bakery). But it is not what many outsiders expect. "La politesse" is not about forced smiles, loud greetings, or instant friendliness. It is about something older and more structural. It is about showing that you understand the social code. The French do not do fake warmth with strangers. Yet they are deeply attached to formal respect. Once you see that distinction, the city makes sense.

I have lived here good enough  to feel the difference in my bones. Let me explain what I have learnt about this politeness, because it shapes almost every interaction you will have.

FRENCH CULTURE ACKNOWLEDGES THAT OTHERS EXIST

The core of French politeness is recognition. You are not an island. Every time you enter a shared space, you signal one basic thing: “I see you. I know we are here together.” That is why "Bonjour" is sacred. It is not optional. It is the minimum ticket for entering public life. You say "Bonjour" as you step onto an escalator and pass someone coming down. You say "Bonjour" as you enter a shop, a pharmacy, a lift, or a waiting room. You say it to the bus driver when you board. You say it to the person behind the cheese counter before you order. 

Today I went to Tang Frères, the big Asian store in the 13th arrondissement, to buy bok choy and lotus root. The security guard at the entrance greeted me with "Bonjour". The young woman who guided me to the right shelf said "Bonjour"  before she pointed. The cashier said "Bonjour" before she scanned my items. None of them gave me a wide American smile. But each of them acknowledged me. In France, that acknowledgement is the point. 

Skip "Bonjour"  and you have already broken the code. Walking into a shop in silence and pointing at what you want feels, to French eyes, like walking into someone’s flat without knocking. It is not “unfriendly”. It is invisible. And to be invisible in a shared space is rude.

"Bonsoir" takes over after about 6 pm. The rule is the same. You mark the transition from outside to inside with a word. You recognise the human in front of you before you ask for anything.

POLITENESS COMES BEFORE WARMTH

French politeness has layers, and the order matters. The first layer is formal. The second layer is warm. You do not get to the second without passing through the first. The formal layer is simple and strict. You use "vous" with everyone who is not family or a close friend. You add ,"s’il vous plaît"  when you ask. You say "merci"  when you receive. You say "au revoir "and "bonne journée" or "bonne soirée" when you leave. You do not interrupt. You wait your turn. You keep your voice low in restaurants and on the Métro. 

This formal layer is called  "La Politesse". It keeps social distance comfortable. It tells the other person: “I respect your space. I am not presuming we are intimate.” 

The second layer is "La  Gentillesse". That is real warmth, humour, the sudden smile, the chat about your day. But gentillesse is earned. French people can seem cold at first because they will not fake 'gentillesse' before you have passed the  'politesse' test. 

A shopkeeper on Rue Mouffetard might never beam at you. Yet every morning she will say, “Bonjour Monsieur, voilà, merci, bonne journée.” That sentence is complete respect. She has done her part of the contract. If you come back for six months, always saying "Bonjour and Merci, one day you might get a real smile, a comment about the weather, even a “ça va? ”. The warmth arrives, but only after the formality is secure.

Visitors often mistake this sequence. They think the lack of instant smiles means Parisians are rude. It is the opposite. Parisians are so committed to respect that they refuse to fake what is not yet real. Politesse first.  Gentillesse later. That is the order.

A DIRECT “NO” IS RARELY USED

Another pillar of La Politesse is how you refuse. A blunt “no” can feel like a slap in France. It breaks the harmony of the interaction. So the language has built a whole set of softeners. Instead of “I don’t want to”, you will hear "C’est compliqué". Literally “it’s complicated”. Everyone understands it means “no”, but it saves face for both sides. You are not rejecting the person. You are blaming the situation. "Pourquoi pas" sounds like “why not”, but tone and context turn it into “maybe, but probably no”. "Je vais voir"  means “I’ll see”. It is a polite way to close the topic without shutting the door hard. "Il faut que je réfléchisse" or  “I need to think about it”  is another classic 'no'. 

Food is the clearest example. At a French dinner, you do not push your plate away and say “I’m full” or “I’m done”. That can offend . The cook has given time, money, and pride to the meal. So you protect their effort. You say, “C’était délicieux, mais je n’ai plus faim.” Translation: “That was delicious, but I’m not hungry anymore.” You praise first, then you set your boundary. The message is clear, yet no one loses dignity. 

This indirect style is not deception. It is lubrication. It keeps the social machine running without friction. Once you hear it a few times, you stop expecting a hard yes or no. You listen for the shade of grey.

PRIVACY IS SACRED: THE JARDIN SECRET

The deepest rule of French politeness is the protection of privacy. Every person has what the French call a  'jardin secret' :  a secret garden. It is their inner life. Their family, their money, their health, their romantic choices, their political fears. That garden is theirs. You are not invited in by default. So good manners mean not prying. Asking “What’s your job?” or “Are you married?” or “How much do you earn?” within five minutes of meeting someone is not small talk in France. It is an intrusion. It forces intimacy before trust exists. It says, “I am entitled to your private life.” The French hear that as aggressive, even if you meant it kindly.

I have watched Americans arrive in Paris and try to connect the way they do at home. In the US, those questions are icebreakers. “What do you do?” helps place someone. “Are you married?” opens paths to common ground. The intent is connection, not invasion. People expect to share.

So here is the rule of thumb: France prioritises privacy. The US prioritises openness. Neither culture is wrong. They are built on different fears. French social code fears intrusion. American social code fears being aloof. 

In France, if you want to be polite, you stick to the public square. You talk about the weather, the transport strike, the price of baguettes, the new film at the cinema, the result of the PSG match, the exhibition at the Pompidou. Politics and philosophy are fine too, but you debate them as ideas. You do not ask how someone voted, or what their partner thinks. You keep the discussion in the realm of concepts, not confessions.

Personal details come only when the other person offers them. And they will, if trust grows. But it is their choice to open the gate to the 'jardin secret' . Your job is not to rattle it.

SAFE TOPICS, NOT COLDNESS

Because of this, small talk in France stays on safe ground. You will hear about the rain, the heatwave, the latest Métro delays, the quality of the tomatoes at the market, the wine from last weekend, the film everyone is arguing about. These topics are not boring. They are neutral. They allow two strangers to be pleasant without presuming closeness.

This is why French people can seem distant at first. They are not refusing connection. They are refusing premature connection. The boundary is a sign of respect, not rejection. Once you understand that, the silence on the bus stops feeling hostile. It starts feeling civilised. Everyone has agreed not to force their life onto you, and they expect the same courtesy back.

DON’T FORCE INTIMACY: VOUS BEFORE  TU

The fastest way to break "La Politesse" is to force intimacy with language. French has two words for “you”. Tu is singular and informal. Vous is plural or formal. 

The rule is simple. You use  vous with everyone until you are invited to use tu. Vous is for strangers, shopkeepers, waiters, officials, older people, and colleagues you do not know well. Tu is for children, animals, close friends, and family. 

Moving from  vous to tu is called tutoyer. It is a real event. Often someone will say, “ On peut se tutoyer?” meaning “Can we use tu?” If they do not ask, you do not switch. Using  tu too early feels presumptuous. It says, “I have decided we are close,” when the other person has not. 

The same goes for titles. Use  Monsieur and Madame with strangers. First names are for friends. Even in offices, people might work together for years and still say  Monsieur Durand and vous . That is not cold. It is a boundary that lets professional respect stay clean.

So: avoid personal questions, keep vous,  and use titles. These are not barriers to friendship. They are the frame inside which real friendship can grow without pressure. The French believe autonomy is dignity. Formalities protect that dignity. When rapport does develop, it is chosen, not imposed. That makes it stronger.

THE FIVE RULES I LEARNT IN  PARIS

If you remember nothing else, remember these five moves. They will carry you through 90 percent of daily life in Paris.

1 Enter any place : say Bonjour during the day or Bonsoir after about 6 pm. Say it clearly, to the human, not to your phone. 

2. Ask for anything: start with  Excusez-moi, then add 's’il vous plaît'. “Excusez-moi, vous avez du pain complet, s’il vous plaît?” That is the whole formula.  

3  Receive anything: say Merci. If you want to be complete, add  'Merci beaucoup' or 'Merci bien'. 

4 Leave any place: say 'Au revoir', and add 'bonne journée' before evening or 'bonne soirée' after. “Au revoir, bonne journée” closes the loop.  

5 Bump into someone or step on a foot: say Pardon. If it was serious, add 'Excusez-moi'. 

Do these five, and you are already speaking fluent 'Politesse'.  Parisians will notice. The baker will remember you. The bus driver will nod. The pharmacy queue will feel less tense.

CONCLUSION 

"La politesse"  is not about being nice. It is about being legible. It tells everyone around you: “I know the rules. I will not invade you. I will not ignore you. I will play my part.” 

Once you play your part, the city softens. The shopkeeper who seemed stern will slip an extra madeleine into your bag. The neighbour who never spoke will suddenly ask if you need help with your suitcase. The warmth was always there. It was just waiting behind the formal door.

France teaches you that respect is not the same as affection, and affection cannot be demanded. You give respect first, freely, to everyone. Affection comes later, rarely, and only by mutual choice. 

That is " La Politesse" . It is old, it is structured, and it works. Learn it, and Paris stops being a cold city. It becomes a city with very clear manners. And inside those manners, real human connection has space to breathe.

(Avtar Mota)

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.

Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.

RIG VEDIC CONCEPTS AND ALBERT CAMUS'S INDIFFERENT UNIVERSE

                             

                        

Rig Vedic Concepts of Ṛta (ऋत ) ,  Anṛta (अनृत ), and Albert Camus’s  Indifferent Universe 

In the Rigveda, Ṛta is the cosmic law  governing seasons, truth, sacrifice, natural causality. It’s not moral approval; it’s mechanics. The sun rises because of Ṛta, not because the gods favour you. The universe runs on pattern, not compassion. Stated more than 3000 years,  this is Camus’s  “benign indifference” . The cosmos doesn’t hate you. It doesn’t notice you. It functions.Ṛta is the Vedic principle of cosmic order, truth, and natural law that keeps the universe functioning.   According to Vedas, It governs everything from the movement of the sun and seasons to moral conduct and ritual precision.  The gods, especially Varuṇa and Mitra, are called guardians of Ṛta because they uphold this universal harmony. In human life, living according to Ṛta means speaking truth, performing duty, and aligning action with dharma.  Vedic sacrifices were designed to maintain Ṛta, as ritual order was thought to sustain cosmic order.  

Anṛta is falsehood, disorder, the violation of  Ṛta. Crucially, Anṛta isn’t created by the universe ,  it’s created by humans lying, cheating, breaking trust. The Vedas say the cosmos stays ordered; we bring the chaos. Camus says the same: the Absurd is born from the clash between our hunger for meaning and the world’s silence. Anṛta  is what happens when we demand that the indifferent universe be fair, personal, or moral  and then act as if it isn’t. Anrta is disorder , the breaking of Rta, the Vedic order that keeps both cosmos and society aligned. Where Rta is the sun rising on time, the seasons turning without favour, and systems moving  by rule alone, Anrta is the eclipse: the arbitrary, the corrupt, the personal gain placed above duty.  It is the unravelling of trust :  the social drought the Vedas warned would follow when a king, or a responsible person , breaks the cosmic order.

Camus says , “The Absurd is the confrontation between human need and the unreasonable silence of the world.”  

Vedas say : “ Ṛta exists. Anṛta is what humans do when they deny it.” Both start with an impersonal cosmos. Both say suffering comes from our refusal to accept that impersonality. According to Camus, "choosing to act ethically with full knowledge the universe won’t reward you". In Camus's novel ," The Myth of Sisyphus" , Sisyphus pushes the rock anyway.  The Vedas say, "choosing to uphold Ṛta with full knowledge the universe won’t thank you. 

In both, meaning isn’t given by the cosmos :  it’s imposed by humans on an indifferent backdrop. Ṛta is Camus’ universe: lawful but silent. Anṛta is Camus’ Absurd: the noise we make when we expect it to speak. The Rigveda and Camus agree: the universe keeps its order and its silence. Lies, evil, and despair or  Anṛta are what happen when we can’t bear that silence.

( Avtar Mota )

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.

Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.